TOWARDS THE END of the last war, my sister Nancy was dining with Chips Channon. The guest of honour was Field Marshal Lord Wavell. After the ladies lefi the dining room Nancy imagined a wonderfully interesting conversation might be going on, with up-to-date war news such as one never saw in the newspapers. The doors were opened for the coffee to come in, and she strained to hear what was being said. ‘Just a narrow edging of white’, came Cecil Beaton’s well-known braying voice.
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'Unlike much that was extracted from India, these paintings were not plunder, and those who created them were properly remunerated and often received due credit.'
@PParkerWriting on 'Forgotten Masters: Indian Painting for the East India Company'.
‘"I feel", Lowell told Hardwick ... "as if I were pulled apart and thinning into mist, or rather being torn apart and still preferring that state to making a decision."'
Richard Davenport-Hines on the letters of Robert Lowell and Elizabeth Hardwick.
'To me, Elmore Leonard is as comforting in extremity as Pym, and as safe, in the last resort, as Wodehouse. The guys with the best lines are going to come out the other side; the dumb fucks are going to get it in the head or chest.'